Does the world really need another blog?
Don’t answer that. It might discourage me.
For the last couple of months I’ve been working toward launching a new one. It’s called The Next Great Generation. It’s an experiment in everything from crowdsourcing, to personal branding, to the concept of Free as put forth by Chris Anderson.
Crowdsourcing because The Next Great Generation will call on dozens, if not hundreds, of aspiring Gen-Y bloggers and writers for its content. Personal branding because it’s my hope that a lot of these writers will establish reputations, find readers, and use their experience to land their first job or advance to a better one. And Free, because I’m not paying them. At least not yet. The idea is that attention and recognition constitute fair compensation.
So far it’s been way more work than I thought, and it’s barely even up yet. But there seems to be no shortage of interest. The students, writers, professors, marketers and researchers I’ve spoken with consistently respond with enthusiasm and even excitement. So we’ll see what happens.
We go live today. Wish us luck. And don’t be too harsh with your reaction. At least not yet. We’d rather your encouragement, as we have a long way to go. Nevertheless, we do want to hear what you think, and know what you’d like to see. And, of course, if you’re a Millennial, we invite you to join us.
So please visit us at The Next Great Generation. Check out the About page. And feel free to contact us. Also, leave a comment and answer this week’s question. Would you ever pay for a newspapers? And finally, tell your friends, marketing acquaintances, brand managers, and other “grownups” to check us out.
Thanks for stopping by. And while you’re at it, what do you think? Does the world need another blog?
This film brought to you by Twitter
Anyone on Twitter knows the power of the medium. We’ve seen one person call on his community to raise money for someone in need. We’ve witnessed the near instant display of support for Iranian free speech. And we observe daily big and small examples of crowdsourcing.
But one of the coolest demonstrations of Twitter’s power is its recent use in movie making. For Erik Proulx, the man behind Lemonade, Twitter aided in casting, staffing, equipping, transporting, and promoting this soon to be documentary.
Having connected with hundreds of unemployed advertising people on his blog Please Feed the Animals, Erik was inspired to tell their stories of life after exile.
“I thought I’d end up making a simple video of people sharing what happened to them and how they dealt with losing their jobs. Something with production qualities similar to what you see on YouTube,” he explained over coffee.
Clearly Erik wasn’t thinking big enough. Using Twitter to spread the word, a request for personal stories yielded 75 full-blown responses in a matter of days. Picture Park, a Boston production company, saw the conversation online and volunteered its production services to film people telling their stories. Another Twitter follower from Sony Pictures forwarded to Erik the name of a contact at a camera rental house willing to donate equipment. And in a virtual coup, after Erik mobilized a few Twitter friends to @reply Virgin America and ask the company to contribute airfare, the airline came through.
“It took Virgin America all of two hours to respond and offer up free flights for the Boston based film crew to fly to Los Angeles to record subjects who lived on the west coast,” says Erik, still surprised at the impact a few tweets can have.
Lemonade is in final production as I write this. But the role of Twitter continues. Enter Darrell Whitelaw and team (see Darrell’s comment below) who’s building a website, still in its early stages, that will house the film and offer an interactive experience where users can upload and share their personal stories via video. Where did Erik and Darrell meet? You guessed it.
Lydia Dishman, a Twitter friend of mine who I met during Wednesday evening’s #editorchat, noticed my tweets about the trailer and instantly asked for an introduction to Erik so she could write a piece for Fast Company.
And the beat goes on. The day after Erik and I met, HBO contacted him asking for a description of the finished film for its consideration. While anyone would want visibility for their movie, Erik has decided to eschew any distribution (festivals, theaters) if it means he can’t put it online. “I certainly don’t want anyone who’s lost a job to have to pay to see this film,” he explains.
From the trailer, Lemonade looks incredibly promising: genuine, inspiring, beautifully filmed. It’s a lesson in re-invention and transformation. But just as important, it’s a lesson in how much you can accomplish when you add social media to the mix.
Lemonade the movie. Conceived by Erik Proulx. But brought to you by Twitter.
What’s the best project you’ve seen made possible by Twitter or social media?
Could Mr. Bubble be the next social media phenomenon?
The other day, on behalf of Mr. Bubble, I sat through three full-blown new business pitches designed to increase preference for this nostalgic brand.
Three agencies, Evolve, Pulp and Milk Street rolled out their A teams and put on a show, bringing to life the brand, its consumers, and unveiling social media ideas that would build community, inspire conversation, and connect with Moms on their terms and in their space.
Some
pretty smart people taught me about millennial Mom’s approach to child rearing, her belief in creativity, her social media habits and the role of nostalgia in brand relationships.
Bet you didn’t know six brands are battling it out for bubble bath dominance. Or that Johnson and Johnson is the biggest threat to the playful pink bottle. Or that even today’s Moms are influenced by their own mother’s recommendations.
But Mr. B doesn’t have to worry. Why? All three agencies know exactly how consumers interact with both the category and the brand and more importantly how they use social media as it relates to to personal care and bath products.
They search “bath time” and “bubble bath” for information and ideas. They research products and their safety, relying more on blogs than the brands’ websites. They socialize their own findings and opinions on content sites and across networks.
And while there may be some obstacles – Moms are time-starved, brand awareness is very low among Moms in the 33-42 age range – the agencies have ideas to overcome that. From very cool “bubble yourself” apps, to crowdsourced videos documenting creativity, to my favorite: Bubbleduck, a pink rubber duck that travels across the country virtually and physically, all while encouraging Moms and their kids to have fun and inspiring them to use the product.
Oh, I almost forgot. We even have measurement and analytics programs that track everything from traffic to engagement to brand preference. Not to mention modeling to predict sales increases.
Now for the kicker. Mullen interns, half of them still in college, comprised the three agencies and made all of the above presentations. They did the research, the consumer interviews, the strategies, the videos, the social media campaigns, the search optimization, and the analytics. They did it mostly by themselves. And they presented it all with such authority that if no one had told me they were interns, I may not have known.
These students and recent graduates get it. They don’t think in terms of advertising or PR or social media. For them it’s all mashed together, united by the web, digital technology and their own media habits. They’re comfortable thinking in the space, creating in the space, connecting in the space.
This is the future. These guys are coming. My suggestion? Take advantage of them. Hire them. Put them to work. And get out of the way.
How many young people do you have in your organization? Are you giving them real responsibility?
Life is short, fame is fleeting (something to keep in mind as you build your personal brand)
“Who’s Paul Silverman?”
The sudden death two days ago of my former partner Paul Silverman, 69, inspired a number of conversations around the office about life and careers. Paul was unarguably one of advertising’s best copywriters, a brilliant strategist, and someone who helped put Mullen on the map.
“Get me Paul Silverman?”
In his time crafting ads, winning awards and helping grow an agency, Paul was pretty well known. He didn’t really work at it, but certainly enjoyed the recognition.
However, there are many people in advertising and related businesses (digital, PR, social media) who do try. For some reason, it’s not enough to make our clients famous. We strive to be known ourselves. We believe that our name in the back of an award show book, or in the headlines of a trade magazine, or featured on a creative website actually matters. Add to that the fact that we now live in an age of personal branding, pressured to measure our worth by the number of people who follow us, or RT our content, and that quest for fame is magnified even further.
“Get me a young Paul Silverman.”
The night before I heard about Paul I had drinks with another ad-famous (if that’s even the right label) copywriter and creative director, Scott Wild. He shared a story of attending the One Club Hall of Fame induction for Tim Delaney. (That probably makes Tim, famous, too. Though when I asked young writers and art directors if they ever heard of Tim, or for that matter Ed McCabe, Hal Riney, or Tom McElligott, the answer is often the same, “Who?”)
Scott went on to recall sitting in a room filled with a bunch of self-important ad people admiring themselves and celebrating one of their own and thinking, “My God, is this the pinnacle, to be anointed by this insular group of people known only to them?”
Many of us are consumed by this nutty industry. We typically work days, nights, weekends.
Sure we have lots of reasons. We do it to fulfill a need to create, to make a living, to build a business, to help grow brands we believe in, to share what we know with others, to mentor the next generation, maybe even to get famous ourselves (even if we’re only legends in our own minds).
But it strikes me that the last reason matters the least, an unworthy goal in and of itself.
“Who’s Paul Silverman?”
I would guess that today two-thirds of the employees in the company Paul helped build don’t even know who he was. I’m also pleased to say that others remembered him fondly. Yet based on their comments, it wasn’t for what he did, but for who he was.
Which brings me to another thought. This one from Jim Mullen. “Life is for the living. Live large. Live strong. And most of all, live kindly.”
What will you be remembered for?
What does it take to become a creative director?
Recently an overly ambitious young copywriter came into my office and asked, “How do I become a creative director?” My answer was simple. “First you’ll have to work your ass off. Nights, weekends, whatever it takes. Second, you’ve got to be incredibly prolific. Plan on coming up with at least 12 ideas for every project you get. If those ideas meet with rejection, plan on coming up with another 12. Third, volunteer for the toughest assignments, the ones everyone else runs away from. And finally, assume total responsibility for the quality of your work by paying attention to every single detail.”
“Wow, that’s great advice,” the copywriter responded. “So that’s what it takes to become a creative director?”
“Oh, no,” I corrected him. “That’s what it takes to become a senior copywriter. Then you keep doing it over and over and over.”
The lesson: focus on performance, never on title or power.
The above story is “borrowed” from a tale that former secretary of state, Colin Powell, likes to tell. The original story is actually about an army private who aspires to become a general.
